


By Way of Pain

by icandrawamoth



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2019 [13]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Broken Bones, February Ficlet Challenge, M/M, Pain, Soulmates, pain-sharing soulmates au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 20:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17774060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: After Tycho disappears, Wedge feels every bit of his pain through their soulmate bond.





	By Way of Pain

**Author's Note:**

> For February Ficlet Challenge day thirteen prompt "soulmates."

The water is too hot for comfort, but Wedge slides into the bath anyway, because it's another distraction. His entire body aches, and though he knows the water won't help, he can pretend, pray for some sort of placebo effect. At least it might momentarily help ease his tension.

He's felt like this ever since Tycho vanished nearly five months ago. That buzzing flash of pain, like being hit by an ion blast, carried to Wedge through their soulmate bond that had hit him the day Tycho was set to return from his Coruscant mission was just the beginning. What followed has been an endless stream of pain from the man he loves. Torture, certainly, and Wedge can feel all of it. Not as clearly as the one experiencing it, not exactly in the way he feels his own hurts, but close enough.

Mostly it's just bruises and soreness, the results of beatings a pain Wedge himself is familiar with, but sometimes it's much, much worse. When he had finally managed to get out of his victory tour and was on a transport headed back for Chandrila ready to start a hunt to tear the galaxy apart looking for Tycho, he'd felt the sudden snap of a finger. Even having felt the shared pain many, many times before it had been shocking to look down and see his own bones still whole, his skin unblemished.

The next snap had torn a scream from Wedge's throat and pulled the attention of every other traveler in the cabin. He had never felt a longer flight as he kept his head down and tried to stay quiet through three more breaks, sick with phantom pain and sicker still at the thought of what Tycho was going through and having no way to stop it.

Wedge lets out a low breath and tries to relax into the hot water. Like he could ever actually be calm when Tycho is still out there, still who knows where, still hurting. Wedge has barely slept, has refused to rest from doing every single thing he can to track him, even though that mission has been nothing but a succession of agonizing dead ends. No New Republic sources embedded with the enemy have seen or heard of him. No one knows where he is, and the galaxy is just too bit to search blindly. Each fruitless day feels longer than the last, the frustration eating at Wedge, and he has no idea what to do with it.

Through the pain, he's thankful Tycho is still alive. Neither of them would be hurting like this if he were dead, and that counts for something. Still, Wedge feels shame here in the warmth and the dim light. His friends keep telling him he needs to take care of himself, that he's no good to anyone running himself ragged like this, and he knows they're right, but how can he? How can he relax and pamper himself while Tycho is lying cold and alone in a prison somewhere? Just the mental image is enough to sap any comfort Wedge may have felt from the bath.

At least the pain isn't so bad today. Whoever has Tycho seems to take the pain they inflict in shifts, giving him a few days off in between sessions, letting him heal before going at him again. Wedge hates that thought, the vile viciousness behind it, but at least Tycho is getting some rest instead of endless torture. The last two days have been like this, no sharp new hurts, but the constant throbbing ache of a body struggling to heal.

Wedge starts as his comlink signals and sloshes water all over the floor in his rush to answer it.

“Commander Antilles,” comes Admiral Ackbar's voice from the device, “There is news.”

Wedge's heart slams again his ribs. “Tell me.”

“An Imperial shuttle excited hyperspace above the planet approximately twenty standard minutes ago. The pilot identified himself as Captain Tycho Celchu and claimed to have escaped from an Imperial prison facility.”

Everything in Wedge seems to go very still, his entire life hinging on the next moment. “Is it him?”

“He gave the appropriate identification and clearance codes, and the voiceprint was a near-perfect match,” Ackbar responds. “The shuttle has been cleared for landing at a remote spaceport, and after he is cleared, he will be brought to the local New Republic Intelligence Service branch for detainment and questioning.”

Wedge's words trip over themselves in their desperation to escape. “Can I see him?”

“I cannot promise you will allowed immediately, but I know I could not keep you away if I tried.”

“No, sir.” Wedge is already across the refresher and hurrying to dry himself off, not caring one iota about the giant puddles spreading across the tiles. “I'll be there in five minutes.”

“The seas are calming, Commander,” Ackbar says with understanding. “This ordeal is not yet over, but you will be with your mate again.”

Wedge ends the call, not bothering to fight the tears of relief that cascade down his face, simply letting them soak into the already-damp towel. He doesn't how, but Tycho is back. He's back, he's _safe_ , and Wedge is going to hold him in his arms if he has to break down the walls of the NRI base with his bare hands.


End file.
